


Daughter of Martha

by Samarkand12



Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic), ゼロの使い魔 | Zero no Tsukaima | The Familiar of Zero
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 10:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 15,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13293006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samarkand12/pseuds/Samarkand12
Summary: The Daughters of Mary seldom bother, for they have inherited that good part;But the Daughters of Martha favour their Mother of the careful soul and troubled heart.And because she lost her temper once, and because she was rude to the Lord her Guest,Her Daughters must wait upon Mary's Daughters, world without end, reprieve, or rest.Adapted from "Sons of Martha", by Rudyard Kipling, composed for the "Ritual of the Calling of the Engineer"In which a young girl whose heart seeks love summons instead a familiar who promises SCIENCE!





	1. In Which Destiny Takes A Surprising Turn

"Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere," Professor Colbert said, "come forth to summon your familiar on this holy day."  
  
Laughter and jeers accompanied said girl's approach to the summoning circle drawn in the earth. The petite teenage girl nervously flipped her pink locks into some semblance of order. She could do this. There would be no explosion. There would be no abject, humiliating failure. She would not have to stand before Mother, to shame Father, to be revealed as the--  
  
"Stand back, the Zero is about to cause another disaster!"  
  
\--that. Fingers tightened on the slim wood wand in her hand hard enough to turn bone-white.  
  
"My servant that exists somewhere in creation!"  
  
It is said that nothing is more powerful than the desire of a young woman desperate for her heart's desire.  
  
"My divine, beautiful, wise, mighty servant, heed my call!"  
  
Doubly so it is true of those who have toiled in vain and seek validation.  
  
"I wish from very bottom of my heart--"  
  
Of course, the cautionary principle in these cases is:  
  
"Answer my summons and appear!"  
  
Be careful what you wish for.  
  
*BOOOOOOM!*  
  
Because you just might get it, good and hard.  
  
++++  
  
The Void awakened to the call. It was not intelligent in the manner humans could comprehend. But it was alive. It sensed passion channeled through the thought-form that had been constructed by its first wielder. In most cases, the call was answered by its lesser aspects. This one called to it directly. The Void responded in the only way it knew how. Tendrils of unimaginable power spread through the darkness between worlds and time. So great was the caller's will and need that it reached deep into the roiling sea of probabilities. The charge was clear--find the one most suited for the mage.  
  
It briefly touched upon a young Japanese boy in the world called Earth.  
  
Hmmm. Naaah.  
  
Father. Deeper. Until...  
  
"Aim for the field!"  
  
Destiny made manifest slammed into a loop in the space-time continuum, at a point where a young lady has just had a most horrible day.  
  
"I'll aim for the pond!"  
  
The two aboard the escape blimp about to crash in the Wastelands didn't notice the translucent green magical symbol shimmering right at the edge of perception.  
  
"NO! ANYTHING BUT THAT!"  
  
The Void screamed in agony as it struggled against a destiny that matched the power of the call.  
  
Something had to give.  
  
Realities diverged.  
  
In the time loop, the airship crashed at the edge of a pond a day's walk from the campsite of an seemingly-innocent traveling show.  
  
In another...tumbling through the Void, drawn by the power of one young woman's call...came another strawberry-blonde woman and a white cat.  
  
+++  
  
Which is how Louise the Zero came to be hit in the face by an airship.


	2. In Which Karma Hits Dogma

_It is their care in all the ages to take the buffet and cushion the shock.  
It is their care that the gear engages; it is their care that the switches lock.  
It is their care that the wheels run truly; it is their care to embark and entrain,  
Tally, transport, and deliver duly the Sons of Mary by land and main. _  
  
Ow.  
  
The world spun around Louise. In truth, this was a belief common to most of the mage-nobility of Halkegenia. The difference in this case was that the world was spinning around like when she and Henrietta had twirled about in the gardens as children. There was also a weird whirring sound that almost drowned out the ringing in her ears. She couldn't believe she could create an explosion that big. Hesitant fingers probed her nose. OW! Oh, Brimir! That really hurt! Hazel eyes flew wide. By the Founder! It must have been a massive explosion. God, no, if she had hurt or...or killed...  
  
Louise surged to her feet despite the pain. All around her was a scene of utter chaos. The second-year students attending the Springtime Summoning Ritual had scattered all about the great field except in one direction. A swathe of bruised, battered, and groaning bodies had been left in the wake of what appeared to be a small green boat beneath some sort of garish orange balloon. Spinning...blades?...shuddered to a stop on odd contraptions mounted on outriggers. Pinned beneath the hull of the ship was a pair of kicking legs, clad in white stockings. Scandalous red underwear was visible as the trapped woman beneath the contraption cursed in Germanian.  
  
Louise giggled.  
  
Heeee. Oh, Mother was going to eviscerate her with a tornado of wind knives. But witnessing the redoubtable Kirche lose her composure so thoroughly was worth it.  
  
"At least we missed the pond--oh, my head."  
  
Louise looked down. White fur. Green eyes. Tail  
  
Cat.  
  
A talking cat.  
  
"What the hell?" hissed the talking of wonderful wonderful beautiful special _magical_ feline.  
  
"Pentagon of the Five Elements," Louise intoned, "bless this humble creature, and bind it as my familiar!"  
  
"ACCCCK!" The cat swore when she rapped it on the top of its head with her wand and kissed it.  
  
Louise held her TALKING CAT FAMILIAR high by the scruff of its neck so all could see her success. Ha!   
  
Er. Where were the runes of binding?  
  
It...wasn't working.   
  
Tears filled her eyes. This wasn't her familiar. It was just some random housecat, and she was hallucinating, and she really was the Zero as everyone said...  
  
"rrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRR"  
  
Louise realized a salient fact: she was holding an enraged furball equipped with four paws and a mouth of sharp teeth.  
  
*SNICK*  
  
Claws glinted in the sunlight.  
  
A tiny drop of sweat dripped down one temple.  
  
"RAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! YOU GOT BLOOD ON MY FUR AND I'LL HAVE TO WASH IT OFF!"  
  
"AIIEEEEEEEE!"


	3. In Which Disdressed Damsels Are Given Succour

_Mom. Dad. Mein Gott, what did she do to you? I'm sorry I was angry and I yelled at you and hated you a little bit for doing that to me don't die don't--_  
  
Agatha spat dirt out of her mouth. Thoughts of regicide filled her mind regarding a certain cat which chose terra all too firma instead of a water landing. Her questing hand found her glasses a meter away. Ah. There. Better. Oh, not "better"--the escape airship was a complete wreck. Hull smashed, controls fritzing in a way she was familiar with in the days of failed experiments, gas envelope burst. There was no way to patch it up even if she had had lifting gas for the tanks. Alright. First things first--she had to find some food and that damned...  
  
Groans of pain.  
  
Agatha whirled around.  
  
All around her were young boys and girls in various states of injury, and beneath the wreck--  
  
Agatha sprinted over to the downed airship with a speed born of years of dodging hazards in Transylvania Polygnostic's labs. Back to the hull, she fought for purchase while trying to lift it off the trapped woman. Argh! Verdamnt, she could not budge it. Lever? No, there wasn't a spar or branch long enough. The gondola was dug deep into the earth by the bow, too. Help! She needed help!  
  
Searching among the injured, she automatically triaged the fallen based on the obvious signs. Some were cradling broken bones or sprains, one girl with blue hair was clutching her ribs while her-- Agatha's eyes flew wide at the huge lizard construct crooning over the child. Not a lizard--it was an honest-to-goodness dragon! Where was she? There hadn't been any people near the landing site. It had been an isolated valley in the Wastelands. A frantic glance caught sight of a large five-towered castle in a gentle landscape of meadows and woods. There was no sign of a pond.  
  
The vituperative cursing from beneath the wreck changed to terrified begging.  
  
**Focus!**  
  
There! Agatha dashed only the only two mobile people in view. The girl with blond ringlets tied in back with a red bow didn't seem the strongest sort. Also, what on earth had happened to her skirt? It showed her calves. It showed her knees. It showed pretty much everything! Agatha became acutely aware of the draft from the rip up one side of her dress, earned during the fight with the slaver wasps. Well, she'd have a panic over her modesty later. The blonde fop with the ridiculous ruffles on the front of his white shirt wasn't a prime physical specimen either. Well, any assistance helped.  
  
"Monmon, my love, my fleur," he crooned, "be not afraid, for Guiche the Bronze is here to soothe your--"  
  
"Pardon me." Agatha shoved him aside. "Hmmm. Does this hurt? No? Does this? Let me see your eyes. Good, no concussion."  
  
"Unhand her!" the boy said, jumping up.  
  
"Guiche," Monmon said, "you idiot, she's trying to help!"  
  
"Sorry I was rude," Agatha said absently, "there's someone being crushed to death under the airship."  
  
"Ah. Zerbst. It landed on her breasts." Guiche shrugged. "She has time. Now, you vile commoner, I shall discipline you for daring to touch a noble of Tristain! HA!"  
  
With the flourish, Guiche whipped out a--  
  
"Flower." Agatha raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over her chest. "Very...nice. Does it spit acid?"  
  
"Ye--no." Guiche blinked.  
  
"Fire lightning?"  
  
"...no."  
  
"Generate a hideous bioengineered pollen that migrates to the brain and causes madness as tiny blooms sprout in the frontal lobes?"  
  
"By the Founder, no!" Guiche cried out.  
  
"Then you're threatening me with a...stick." Agatha coughed. "If you're done with your posturing, could you please do something actually useful!"  
  
"Why, I'll show you what I can do." Guiche flicked the rose. "Rise, my Valkyrie!"  
  
A single petal fell to the ground. With a rumble, a shape of gold rose from the ground. No, not gold. As a smith's daughter and Dr. Beetle's protege, she knew her metallurgy. It had the distinctive temper and sheen of bronze. Red Fire! _The boy had coded a complex chemical transformation sequence into his device. **Already it was forming a brass statue almost two meters high, styled like that of Pallas Athena in her raiment. It moved, raising a spear. It was A CLANK! HE HAD RAISED A CLANK FROM THE EARTH ITSELF!**_  
  
**_"HOW DOES IT WORK?"_** Agatha screamed, dashing around the Valkyrie.  
  
"Give that back!" Guiche said, trying to snatch back the rose.  
  
**_"THE IMPLICATIONS ARE ASTOUNDING!_** " Agatha shook the rose. **_"MAGNIFICENT! AND HERE I THOUGHT YOU WERE A PREENING FOP ABOUT TO ATTACK ME, INSTEAD OF CREATING THIS CLANK TO LIFT THE AIRSHIP OFF THE GIRL LIKE A TRUE HERO!"_**  
  
"So you acknowledge--my--" Guiche paused. "Yes. I was going to do that. The...thing I was going to do. Yes."  
  
"Ooops. This must also be the control mechanism." Agatha handed back the rose.  
  
"Right. Yes." Cape swirling, Guiche strode off with the clank in tow. "Zerbst! The gallant Guiche de Gramont comes to save you! Never fear."  
  
"Wow." Agatha turned to Monmon. "Oh, hello. Do you have any medical training?"  
  
"Hideous...braineating...pollen..." Monmon looked up. "I am a water mage, although not yet skilled in physic."  
  
"We'll do what we can." Agatha jerked a thumb at the airship wreck. "There's a first aid kit in the there somewhere. Come on, let's go!"


	4. In Which Mysteries Rear Their Heads

This was not Europa.  
  
There were several subtle clues. Chatting with the improbably-named Montmorency Margarita la Fère de Montmorency while tending to the injured had prompted no recognition upon mention of Baron Wulfenbach and his Empire. The girl seemed to think the Baron would have to be an obscure "Germanian" noble that she had never heard of. Further questioning had revealed that Montmorency was a noble scion of a house of "Gallia" to the south of this "Tristain", and "Albion" was to the northwest over the ocean. The climate and geography fit with the Low Countries along the Atlantic. Perhaps Liege or Bruxelles, as the language they were speaking resembled French.  
  
Agatha spoke no French beyond what she had learned from Doctor Glassvich's odd exclamations. Yet she understood Montmorency perfectly. Another clue. Also, the people floating in from the Castle and a young man able to transmute soil into a golem and _it was all wrong..._ She throttled back her panic. The past two weeks since Doctor Beetle's death had been one shock after another. Falling apart only left her helpless and vulnerable. Krosp had been very clear that lapsing into her old patterns would get her killed. The important fact was that she was somewhere beyond the Baron's influence.  
  
She finished binding up a boy's arm in a sling. Gritting his teeth, he walked away with a red fox at his heels. One more mystery added to the rest: everyone of these students had a beast mundane or fantastic nearby as pets. Including a giant eyeball floating thing which was more suited to the Esoteric Construct Sciences Wing at TPU than being found in the wild. At loose ends, she cast about for what to do. Krosp was nowhere to be found. He had likely scampered off in the confusion, given his outsized sense of preservation.  
  
She hoped he fell into a wash-bucket.  
  
A group of adults were gathered by the wreck, all wearing robes or the clasped capes affected by the local people. All except a woman with spectacles, green hair the shade of brass patina, and one of the abbreviated skirts sported by the younger female students. The distinguished old man with long white hair and beard was in conference with another bespectacled man with the dark hair and bare pate of one cursed with premature baldness. Drawing a deep breath, Agatha approached the knot of presumed authority figures.  
  
"--appeared out of the smoke, Old Osmond," the balding man said. "Look at it! It's an airship, but of no design I've ever seen. I wonder what gives it lift?"  
  
"Excuse me," Agatha said. "This would be mine. Ah, it's not...actually mine, but I used it to escape an airship which had an accident. It uses a buoyant lifting gas drawn from those tanks in the stern."  
  
"Of course! How ingenious," the man said. "Professor Jean Colbert, of the Tristain Academy of Magic at your service. This is Osmond, the headmaster of the Academy, and his secretary Miss Longueville."  
  
"Magic. Of course." Agatha's cheek twitched. "I am Agatha Cl--Heterodyne. Have you heard the name before?"  
  
"I cannot say I have," Colbert replied. "Are you a noble? By your accent, you must be Germanian."  
  
"My family had some...status, long ago," Agatha said. "But that's not really important. I'm so sorry for the trouble I've caused."  
  
"Such a lovely young lady could never cause problems," Osmond said.  
  
For some reason, Agatha quickly tugged the rip in her skirt closed.  
  
"I am afraid you were caught in the familiar summoning ritual," Colbert explained. "The last to perform it was Miss Valliere. Her spellcasting can be...ah...that is to say..."  
  
"Erratic in the extreme," Miss Longueville interrupted. "Gentlemen, I've been watching this young lady run herself ragged aiding the students. We really should bring her to the infirmary for an examination."  
  
"I will take her personally," Osmond said. "She should be thoroughly, intensely, deeply examined all--"  
  
"Professor Colbert, could you escort me?" Agatha practically shouted. "Aha, I feel so faint--"  
  
"It would be my honour, Miss Heterodyne," Colbert said.  
  
"Just one thing," Agatha said. "I had a cat, white, green eyes. It's--"  
  
"Trying to eat Valliere's face," Longueville said.  
  
Uh-oh.  
  
Agatha saw the girl seated on a rock perhaps thirty meters from the airship wreck. In her short friendship, she knew he could be snarky and prone to hissy fits. She had never seen him in a full-bore temper tantrum. The teenage girl's face was covered by a yowling Krosp who has clamped onto her head. Fangs busily worked at gnawing a hole in her skull. Bright red blood streamed down her neck to stain the white blouse the students all wore.  
  
Agatha crept up with the care of one approaching a doomsday device on a hair trigger. Or a violently angry cat, same difference. Erm. If Krosp were one of the derelict clanks that were often found in Beetleburg cellars, she could follow the usual procedure: start it up, when apply a sledgehammer to the works before it went berserk. She didn't know enough about feline physiology to apply the same treatment. Okay. Right. Risky, but it would not leave a good impression if her supposed pet--really, liege lord--killed a young woman attending this school.  
  
Fingertips delicately pressed behind a white-furred ear.  
  
*SCRITCH*  
  
Snarling.  
  
*SCRITCH*  
  
"RRRRRRrrrrrrrrr"  
  
*scritchscritchscritch*  
  
"rrrrrpurrrrrrrrnotfairpurrrrrrrr"  
  
Success. Krosp collapsed into a boneless heap while Agatha continued the ear-scritching. Oh, no. The girl might once have been called cute, in a childish way. What Krosp had done with claws and fangs had transformed that into a network of-- Ach! And her poor nose! Gently, Agatha dipped one of her last remaining gauze pads into the antiseptic solution of the first aid kit. This "Valliere" did not react to the sting of the astringent. The pupils of her hazel eyes had contracted to tiny pinpricks.  
  
"Hi," Agatha said in her most soothing voice. "What's your name?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"I like your hair." Agatha searched for a conversational opening. "It's so...pink."  
  
"Have you seen my familiar?" Valliere croaked out. "I am supposed to summon a familiar, or else Mother will be very mad, and I thought the kitty was my familiar. But it wasn't."  
  
"I...don't think I have," Agatha said. "So you were doing magic?"  
  
"Yes, this is the Springtime Summoning Ritual." Valliere grinned maniacally. "Have you seen my familiar?"  
  
"I only just got here," Agatha said, sending an imploring glance at the professors.  
  
"You came with the airship." Valliere shifted about. "Did the angry kitty come with the airship?"  
  
"Yessssss."  
  
"Then you must be my familiar!"  
  
*WHACK*  
  
"OW! She's gone mad--"  
  
"Pentagon of the five elemental powers, bless this humble being and bind it as my familiar!"  
  
"What the-- oh, how forward! Herr Colbert, she's...she's...ah....AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"  
  
Clutching her left hand, Agatha convulsed in agony as Valliere capered in glee.


	5. In Which Revelations Are Encountered

_They say to mountains, 'Be ye removed'. They say to the lesser floods, 'Be dry'.  
Under their rods are the rocks reproved - they are not afraid of that which is high.  
Then do the hill-tops shake to the summit - then is the bed of the deep laid bare,  
That the Sons of Mary may overcome it, pleasantly sleeping and unaware. _  
  
  
Jean Colbert stroked the sleeping child's features. Louise de la Valliere curled up in her infirmary bed under the influence of a powerful sleeping draught. As the Flame Snake, he would never have engaged in such sentimentality. As the well-liked but dotty professor, he would normally have not shown such favoritism. A teacher couldn't place one student above the other. It was permissible to encourage certain students if they showed dedication or flair. But you couldn't play the father. Here and now, though, Colbert discarded the role for simple human decency.  
  
As many might say, simple human decency in a noble was a rare quality indeed.  
  
Poor, poor girl.  
  
Colbert nodded to the water mage who had come in to change the bandages covering Valliere's features. Perversions aside, Old Osmond wasn't a completely callous headmaster. He had ordered the best healers on staff to attend to the Duke's third daughter at the expense of the Academy. Her injuries had happened during the course of an official school ceremony. Of course, the crafty goat would also wish to avoid conflict with such a powerful family. Politics. How Colbert was glad he had left that game behind, aside from the odd faculty squabble. The scars would be gone in two days, at most. At least, the physical ones.   
  
Colbert left Valliere's private room for one of the public wards. Excitement spurred him on. It was like the times in his laboratory--the scent of a mystery to be revealed. The ward in which Agatha Heterodyne had been placed had no-one else in it. None of the other students wished to be in the same chamber as a commoner. Hmmmph. There was doubt about that aspect. The others also had heard--at least, by rumour--of what had happened when Valliere had bound the stranger as her familiar. Only his suppressed memories as Flame Snake had kept the contents of his stomach in place. By Brimir's Will, she screamed for over twenty minutes! That hideous stench of pork while the village burned--  
  
Miss Heterodyne stood by the window, gazing out at the night sky. Colbert dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. Old Osmond's taste wasn't as degenerate as his morals. The white cotton shift granted to the young woman clung to her form in ways that tempted Colbert into...unprofessional thoughts. There was the voluptuousness of the Zerbst girl with an underlying musculature and solidity that the Germanian noble lacked. There was also, strangely, a hint of Louise in the woman. One might have thought she would be curled up in bed. Instead, she stared out with balled fists resting on her hips.  
  
"Miss Heterodyne?" Colbert said.  
  
"Ah!" Agatha whipped a sheet around herself. "You startled me, Herr Colbert."  
  
"My apologies," Colbert said. "I hoped to find you recovered."  
  
"If you're talking about the brand," Agatha said, flexing her left hand, "it's stopped hurting."  
  
"Miss Valliere wasn't herself," Colbert said. "And there was no way for any of us to know she would bind you as a familiar. It's unprecedented."  
  
"Familiar." Agatha seemed to taste the word. "That sounds suspiciously like 'minion'."  
  
"I suppose it does. May I see your runes again?" Colbert stretched out a hand. "A familiar is a creature summoned by a mage to act as companion, servant, and protector. Senses can be shared."  
  
"A mental link." Agatha proffered her left hand, as if giving it for a courtly kiss. "I could feel something trying to affect my mind. These runes are part of a compulsion, ah, spell? An effect to render a confused or wild animal tractable?"  
  
"Very astute, Miss Heterodyne," Colbert said. He adjusted his glasses. "I've never seen a mark such as this. The lines are composed of tiny, ancient Brimiric runes, but it appears to be a shellfish or--"  
  
"It's a trilobite, the sigil of my house," Agatha said. "The Heterodynes were the oldest from where I come from. My father and uncle were the last...no, I am. All that was left to me was our name and legend."   
  
"I would enjoy speaking about it over dinner some time." Colbert flushed. "That is...ah...I mean.."  
  
"Don't mention it." Agatha smiled shyly. "You remind me of Herr Doctor Glassvich, one of my professors. He was also kind."  
  
Agatha looked out the window again.  
  
"Two moons. Magic. Dragons. Well, this is going to be interesting."  
  
++++  
  
Hours later, Jean Colbert stared at the translation of the runes. Open before him was the rare _The Familiars of Brimir_ that he had come across in the Fenrir stacks. Before him, on one page, were the runes he had seen forming on Miss Heterodyne's hand before they had...twisted. It couldn't be. The implications were astounding. Gandalfir--the Left Hand of God, in this day and age. Valliere must be a-- a-- No, he had to confirm this. The political and religious consequences alone were serious. The Church itself might intervene.  
  
But that wasn't the most intruiging thing.  
  
The tiny script in the lines of her trilobite sigil were subtly different than the Gandalfir runes. Neither did they match Windalfir, Myozthirirn, or the Heart of God. The translation was imprecise and subject to different interpretations. What it suggested was that Agatha Heterodyne was a **fifth** , undocumented Void Familiar.   
  
Now, what was the power of the "Spark of God"?


	6. In Which A Cat Finds His Pigeon

"Have these repaired by morning," Montmorency said to the maid.  
  
"Yes, madame," the dark-haired maid replied, scurrying away with the Zero's familiar's rent clothing.  
  
"Do you really believe she is a noble?" Guiche asked, lounging by the window. "Clearly, the Zero staged it all and it went wrong. Just like her."  
  
"Agatha is no commoner," Montmorency replied. "Did you see how she took charge, so quickly? A son of Gramont could learn from her."  
  
"I would have gotten around to saving Zerbst eventually." Guiche gracefully swept onto one knee before her. "Forgive me, my Monmon, for abandoning you to help that Germanian hussy."  
  
"You were the hero, my beloved." Montmorency's eyes narrowed. "You seemed quite taken with that first year's attentions."  
  
"The price of fame." Guiche bowed, flourishing his rose-wand. "Au revoir, my love!"  
  
Montmorency blushed at the touch of his lips on the back of her hand before he left. Such elegance! Guiche de Gramont was a true nobleman, unlike the churlish oafs who tried to woo her. Grace, poise, aesthetic sensibility--all called to her heart. So what if he seemed to relish the attentions of other girls more than he admitted? That was--was merely a man sure of himself. Yes. Give Guiche time and a little guidance from herself, and he'd be worthy of the line of brave military men who were his forebears.  
  
He might be as courageous and decisive as Agatha.  
  
Montmorency shivered.   
  
No, no, she admonished herself. This was no time to develop a pash. They weren't unknown among the young girls of the aristocracy. But one outgrew such childish romances. Montmorency sighed. The truth was, hers was a fading house. Attendance at the Academy was as much as making connections amid the nobility as academic prowess. The real goal of the female students was to perform acceptably while hunting up a viable suitor or three for marriage; optionally, a lover if one was careful about matters (and a water mage could ensure that!) was fine. Guiche was right. Risking her position for an unkniown--a human familiar, it had to be a commoner--was simply unacceptable. If anyone asked, it had been the maid who had taken the initiative with the familiar's clothes. Not Montmorency.  
  
She fingered the odd sigil. It reminded her of certain creatures found trapped in the stones by Lagdorian Lake. It must simply be the mark of the family who Agatha had sworn allegiance to. Why, she'd implied as much that she'd escaped from a sinking airship. Perhaps she had really stolen it from the nobles who had been aboard. Although, wouldn't it be so marvelously scandalous if...if Agatha had been fleeing an evil noble intent on despoiling her? Yes, how scandalous! How brave! How--  
  
Robin croaked. Montmorency gasped. It was the demonic cat that had attacked the Zero! It sniffed her familiar before turning to her. She shrank back when it assumed an almost...human posture. It stood on its hind legs, forelegs crossed over its chest while leaning against the headboard. There was a predatory quality to its gaze as it studied her. Montmorency slowly reached for the wand on her nightstand. Cats hated water, didn't they? Her fingers had almost grasped her wand when the cat leaped into her lap. She froze when sharp claws pricked through her short uniform skirt.  
  
"Evening," the cat said in Germanian-accented Tristainian. "So you're the one who had Agatha's things."  
  
"I didn't steal them!" Montmorency yelped. "I--I mean to say, given her sterling work, even a noble may show a commoner consideration."  
  
"Hah! Commoner!" The cat batted at the sigil. "That's the sign of the Heterodynes, the oldest house in her neck of the woods. I could tell you stories."  
  
"She really is a noble?" Montmorency said. "But she was bound as a familiar!"  
  
"Do you think I, Krosp the First," the cat said, "Emperor of Cats, would travel with some townie or peasant? Come on!"  
  
"By the Founder!" Montmorency gasped. "Are you some spirit of all catkind, called to aid a heroine in dire peril?"  
  
"Yeah. Let's go with that," Krosp said. "Why don't you tell me about how things work here--little stuff, to help my subject on her feet--while I tell you all about her family."  
  
"I--" Montmorency winced. "There would be social implications if I kept company with someone whose pedigree was suspect."  
  
"You know she's the real thing." The cat stretched, then settled down. "Nice boyfriend of yours. I'm sure he's devoted. Of course, it'd be handy for someone to keep tabs on him."  
  
"I have my Robin," Montmorency said.  
  
"Right, the sharing senses deal." Krosp flicked an ear. "Overheard it earlier. See, frogs? Not all that mobile on land. While us cats, we're everywhere we're not supposed to be. But, Guiche? He wouldn't stray."  
  
"Of course he wouldn't." Montmorency gently stroked his fur. "But if you could watch over him for his own safety--"  
  
"Deal." Krosp, King of Cats, smiled a fang-filled grin. "So, Monmon. Let's chat."


	7. In Which Martha Comes To Mary

"Old Osmond, the implications are staggering." Colbert mopped his brow, eyes red from staring at ancient Brimiric under candle-light. "The Palace--no, the Church must be informed."  
  
"Do not be so hasty." Old Osmond puffed his pipe. "Matters are never as straightforward as they seem. Are they, my little Motsognir?"  
  
The little mouse in the Headmaster's palm squeaked as its master tickled it between its ears.  
  
"Do not worry, I will keep you far from Miss Agatha's skirts," he muttered, watching the scene below in the Vestril Court.  
  
"Is that the talking cat Miss Valliere attempted to bind?" Colbert watched as the white feline stood in the center of several students. Several cats--both familiars and unbound ones--were held in their arms.  
  
"He claims to be the Emperor of All Cats." Osmond's pipe fumed. "And our Miss Heterodyne comes from lands far across the ocean to the west, fleeing the attentions of an evil baron after seducing his son in her bid to escape."  
  
"That is not what she told me," Colbert said.  
  
"Quite a tale-spinner, our Monsieur Krosp." Beneath beard and mustache, the silver-haired mage's lips twitched in a half-smile. "A salacious story travels so quickly among noble girls. Of course, such gossip needs proof."  
  
The tiny figure of Krosp waved dramatically at the assembled felines and hissed.  
  
As one, they leaped out of the grasp of the students and salaamed before the imperious white cat.  
  
"Astonishing!" Colbert said as another paw-wave sent Krosp's subjects scurrying away. "He does seem to have power over others of his kind. How strange. Detect Magic indicated he was of mundane provenance."  
  
"After this, I doubt many would believe he is mundane." Old Osmond stroked the mouse's fur. "People do so want to believe in wonders, Jean. And I think that our Monsieur Krosp has found willing catspaws. Let's have events play out and observe."  
  
"Yes, Old Osmond," Colbert said. "That would be wise."  
  
++++  
  
"The Baron captured me as a harem WHAT?" Agatha's cheeks flushed. "You told them I did WHAT with Gil?"  
  
"Shhh. Someone here might speak Magyar." Krosp's ears swiveled. "Don't smell any other animals around, but you never know."  
  
"I thought the idea was to stay out of sight." Water sloshed as she shifted in the tub.  
  
"Fat chance of that." Krosp twitched away from the tub. "Listen, you're in a dangerous position. Familiars are always animals. My source told me no-one's ever summoned a human. Legally, you don't even rank as a peasant."  
  
"Wonderful," Agatha said. "I'm that pink-haired menace's pet?"  
  
"Think Zulenna--it's all about the pecking order here," Krosp said. "It'd have been luckier if we'd landed in Germania. You can buy a title there without being a mage. Since you're stuck here, I had to spread a few rumors to cement your status."  
  
"At least you had me fighting monsters before I escaped." Agatha frowned. "I hope the Baron got the last of the wasps. I'd hate for Sleipnir and the others to get hurt by one Gil and I missed."  
  
"They're history, kid," Krosp said. "Right now, you're the exotic dispossessed foreign noble girl with an exciting back story. Ordinarily, you'd be in trouble with the noble-without-title bit. But it still gives you a boost in the local hierarchy."  
  
"So I'm my mother's daughter after all," Agatha said. She sighed. "Thanks, Krosp."  
  
"Eh. I got caviar and cream out of it." Fangs flashed. "Don't worry, kid. With some luck, we'll be running this place in a few years."  
  
Great. Krosp had Plans.  
  
Agatha sank lower in the tub. At least his machinations had a point. His demonstration of his "power" seemed to have cemented his wild story. Agatha had spent the first full day in this alternate world ignored except for simple meals delivered by maids. It appeared the Academy staff had no idea what to make of her. It had been different this morning. A young dark-haired maid with a slight tilt at the corners of her eyes had come to the ward as her personal servant. She had conducted Agatha to a private bathing chamber with a huge marble tub already filled with hot water scented with lavender. Fine soaps and bathing oils had been set on a silver tray for her use, along with a dainty assortment of breakfast morsels on another.  
  
Comfortable as she was, Agatha was in no way relaxed about her predicament. Krosp's reconnaissance had included intelligence about this Kingdom of Tristain. The construct's training as spymaster and agent had evidently included a fine eye for politics and military matters. Tristain was the equivalent of the old French and Spanish Netherlands without the Low Country aspects. It was surrounded on three sides by much greater powers. Even she could tell that meant it was a natural battleground; Tristain seemed to survive by a mixture of war-mage prowess and careful balance of alliances. The girl who had bound her as a familiar belonged to a powerful noble familiar who might take exception to Agatha fleeing to Germania. That wasn't taking into account what the binding runes on her hand might do.  
  
Of course-- ** _MAGIC! EEEEEEE!_**  
  
It was strange to have the maid attending to her when she left the tub. The girl kept her eyes down while she toweled Agatha dry and dressed her. Agatha was used to the idea of minions. She had been one herself, no too long ago. Still, it was a telling sign about the difference between the hostage-students aboard Castle Wulfenbach and the expectation of Tristainian aristocrats. She couldn't imagine the Baron letting even Zulenna force the serving-women to put on her underwear! Agatha squirmed as, instead of her usual pantalets, the maid dressed her in scandalously brief culottes and a brassiere. All excellent quality, but still! The repairs to her skirt were invisible, but the hem had been shortened until someone could actually see her knees. At least the fine lisle stockings hid her calves from view. Agatha scowled as she was fitted with delicate shoes instead of her practical steel-toed boots. At least her shirtwaist and green tweed vest hadn't been altered.  
  
The green cape with trilobite badge fashioned into a clasp was nice, though.  
  
The maid was silent as she conducted Agatha out of the infirmary. Her manner discouraged Agatha from trying to chat with her. Everything about her behavior seemed so guarded. Was she afraid of her charge simply for being a noble? Did the nobles here order the commoners about even worse than Silas Merlot had harassed her during her own days in Doctor Beetle's service? Krosp's game with status suddenly took on new meaning. By custom and law, Agatha had even less status than this maid. She squelched her nerves as she followed her guide through a connecting gallery to one of the towers set in the Academy's curtain wall. The two of them climbed a spiralling staircase to a hallway with several door. Student's quarters, she assumed.  
  
I am a Heterodyne, Agatha told herself.. I'm not that weak girl everyone pushed around at school. Surely my would-be mistress can talk rationally and come to a reasonable accomodation--  
  
"Get in here, familiar!" came the imperious order from the half-opened door at which the maid had been about to knock.  
  
"Good luck, my lady," the maid whispered, giving Agatha a look of horrified sympathy before darting away in a swirl of black skirts and starched white lace.  
  
Oh, dear.


	8. In Which Plots Are Laid

Louise traced the evidence of her failure etched across her face. She had spent the past day unconscious while the unguents applied by the water mages did their work. The bandages had come off early this morning. The scratches and bite marks had faded to little more than light marks that would disappear by evening. She had suffered worse once when crawling through rose bushes to hide from her mother's disapproval. Poke. Ow. The nose was still tender. It could have been much worse. She could have been marked for the rest of her life as some kind of common brawler who prize-fought behind taverns. No, there would be no physical marks to show that Louise de la Valliere had summoned a talking cat...and instead bound a commoner girl as a familiar.  
  
Not merely a commoner, but an overly-endowed Germanian.  
  
If she packed up right now, she could use the allowance Father sent her for an airship passage to Romalia. There must be a contemplative order which accepted utter failures who were a shame to their lineage and class. It might even be a pleasant life in the cloisters. Louise was somewhat vague on what nuns actually did. Singing? Light gardening? Maybe she could establish her own order if a suitable one didn't exist. Yes! The Holy Sisters of the Eternal Void, with baggy habits that would hide any assets or lack of same. Height would be below that of its founder. Speaking Germanian would be punished by bread and water diets, and an enforced vow of silence, and--  
  
"Louise!" came the hated voice from the doorway.  
  
\--and birchings on the bare bottom with switches soaked in vinegar--  
  
"I've heard all about it!" Kirche said, bouncing disgustingly into the room.  
  
\--vitriol, soaked in vitriol--  
  
"I'll never call you Zero again," Kirche said, posing against the armoire with arms beneath her udders. "You not only summoned a familiar. You bound a noble!"  
  
"--flaming pitch--" Louise blinked. "What did you say?"  
  
"You must have been pre-occupied." Kirche tilted up her rival's chin. "Good, they're healing. It would be terrible if you lost your best--well, only--feature worth talking about."  
  
"Get away from me!" Louise slapped the offending hand away. "What do you mean, noble? She's a commoner."  
  
"Not from what I've heard." Kirche laid a hand on her--her heart. "It's all over the school. She's from lands across the ocean. Hidden by her family among common retainers, kidnapped by an evil baron for nefarious purposes, fighting off dread monsters with the baron's son she seduced--"  
  
"I can't have bound a noble." Sweat dappled Louise's brow. "That--that's impossible. Nobles can't be bound like--like animals."  
  
"Well, Lady Heterodyne isn't a noble by your snooty standards," Kirche admitted. "I don't think she's a mage. But she serves the Emperor of Cats! I saw it myself when he commanded an entire clowder of them to bow before him. Of course, it would have been more impressive if you had bound the Great Krosp--but then you do have limits--"  
  
"I have to see Old Osmond," Louise said, cheeks flushing. "It--it was a mistake! The ritual wasn't valid. I was made temporarily mad. I can't have accidentally bound a noble!"  
  
"Shhh." Kirche grasped Louise by the shoulders. "Know that I, Kirche Augusta Frederica von Anhalt Zerbst, will never mock you again."  
  
"You won't?"  
  
"When I was trapped beneath that airship," Kirche said, "my lovely bosom--oh, so many boys came by to comfort me--crushed almost flat, I had a moment of empathy. I knew exactly what it felt to be you!"  
  
Louise growled.  
  
"Did you see my salamander, Flame? All the way from the Fire Dragon Mountains!"  
  
Kirche dashed out with a wave as Louise's growl became a feral snarl. Rule of Steel. Remember that. Strong, unbending, sharp, pointy, so she could hack and slash and stab stab stab stab-- That miserable cat and that damned cow had the insufferable nerve to claim nobility for such an obviously base-born woman. Whatever show that vicious feline had done had clearly impressed the shallow minds of the other students. Well, Louise de la Valliere would not be taken in! It was a despicable gambit to fake a claim of nobility. What did it mean for herself, scion of the greatest of Tristain's aristocracy, if this Heterodyne woman could be treated even close to the same class as her?  
  
Hmmm.  
  
Wait.  
  
A _dispossessed_ noble.  
  
Louise's rage cooled into a more calculating frame of mind. This might just be possible to deal with, without the scandal of a true noble bound as a familiar. As long as it was clear "Lady Heterodyne" could do no magic, her claims to a title would be seen as second-class in the Four Nations of Brimir. Doubtless she was some chief's daughter or magicless ritter's illegitimate issue. Dispossesed of her lands? Why, her claim was doubly cheapened. It wouldn't be wise to treat this Agatha as low-born. There would be implications. But, taking her into service as a lady-in-waiting could be seen as acceptable. Why, even charitable. Louise would be granting the cow a crumb of status while legally the woman would still be subject to all the status of an animal familiar. That is to say, zero rights at all.  
  
Hah.  
  
Louise poured herself some wine and gave an order to a passing maid.  
  
Yes. A buxom Germanian would-be noble who would be totally at her mercy.  
  
This could work very well indeed.  
  
Louise smirked when she heard the knock on the door an hour later.  
  
"Get in here, familiar!"


	9. In Which One's Place Is Found In The World

Agatha had been subject to more than her share of critical inspections in her eighteen years of existence. Silas Merlot had been the acknowledged master of the bitter, sarcastic dressing-down which questioned why Agatha had ever been allowed through the gates of Beetleburg to begin with. Doctor Glassvich's critiques were that special sort of kindness that almost hurt more than Merlot's assessments. On the rare occasions Doctor Beetle lost his patience, the power of his Spark had lent even mild annoyance a weight which left her quaking in terror. Various other teachers and instructors had their own special ways of pointing out her lack of worth.  
  
She struggled not to giggle as her "Mistress" circled around her. The sheer silliness of this girl trying to intimidate her was almost too much to bear. The pink-haired girl had ordered Agatha to stand still in the center of the well-appointed room. It was a traditional technique Agatha knew all to well from her days of being called on the carpet. This time, the effect was lacking. It wasn't Louise's petite stature which made it a laughable experience. Both Merlot and Beetle had been able to dominate Agatha despite their lack of height. No. It was because Louise was so cute. Honestly, healed of her wounds, she was as adorable as a china doll. About as scary, too. What she doubtless thought of as disdain came off as petulance. Zulenna would have eaten this girl alive!  
  
Louise turned her back on Agatha, staring out a window. It was a common maneuver: "I have finished my inspection, and now contemplate how exactly to phrase my disappointment". Rather lacking in impact. Agatha's lips quirked. Oh, come on. Probably the hardest task she'd have to deal with in this girl's service was keeping her ribs from aching-- Suddenly, Louise wheeled about. Any hint of levity left Agatha's mind. It wasn't that Louise had become any more impressive. Rather, it was that expression. Sweet lightning, she knew it all to well. Anger. Pain. Humiliation. How often had she herself worn it as experiment after experiment failed?  
  
Only Louise didn't believe she was a commoner's daughter. Her standing was just beneath Zulenna's. Zulenna's unease over her lack of Spark had been bad enough. Louise Valliere apparently had a reputation for failure as bad as Agatha's, combined with the entitlement and expectations of a duke's daughter. That was a poisonous mix. Agatha schooled her expression into polite contrition as Louise stomped-- Er. Don't laugh. Really, really don't laugh at the tempermental young woman who technically had the power of life and death over her. Think sympathetic. Put yourself in her place.  
  
"Is something amusing?" Louise asked, crimson suffusing her features.  
  
"No, milady." Agatha cast her gaze down to the stone floor. "I hope you are not too disappointed."  
  
"You are acceptably turned out, at least." Louise sniffed. "I have decided to be charitable with you, Heterodyne, in spite of your temerity in claiming noble status."  
  
"I know our nobles can't compare to yours." It was truth, in a way. If Guiche and Louise were an example of the flower of Tristainian nobility, the Baron would have beaten the entire peerage of this realm into the ground in a day. "But my foster parents died defending me as the last of my line."  
  
"Died?" Louise asked.  
  
"They came aboard the Baron's ship to rescue me." This time, Agatha's bowed head was sincere. "I saw it happen."  
  
"Oh." Louise's composure evaporated a little. "I--I suppose you're lucky you became my familiar, then. Even though clearly you lack the upbringing which would make you acceptable in polite society. Commoner parents can only do so much."  
  
Agatha's hands clenched into fists.  
  
"I'll expect you to observe me to learn proper behavior." Louise airly waved a hand. "We might make something of you after all. Do you have any skills besides whatever mundane skills your parents gave you?"  
  
"I was told familiars find and collect reagents." Relax. Don't rise to the bait. Temper is how Zulenna lost that duel. "I'm capable in the lab when it comes to che--alchemy. I have a knack for mechanisms. Adam--my foster dad--was a smith, so I studied metallurgy at Transylvania Polygnostic--"  
  
"I don't need a clockmaker or metal-beater." Louise arched a brow. "Really, a blacksmith? What sort of noble is raised by a--"  
  
_"Don't talk about my dad that way."_  
  
Louise froze.  
  
"You want something useful?" The knuckles on Agatha's hands whitened. "Piano playing. Mom was a piano teacher. I also had instruction from the music masters of the university."  
  
"Fine. That's--that's good." Louise nodded. "There will be a show in a few days where the second years will show off their familiar's skills."  
  
"Do you want me to put on a clown nose," Agatha grated out, "and ride around on a steam-powered unicycle too?"  
  
"Maybe just the clown nose." Louise smirked. "Now, I expect you on your best behavior. Don't think you can flounce about and engage in whatever decadent behavior your kind engage in."  
  
"I'll be discretion personified," Agatha replied through clenched teeth. "Speaking of sleeping, will I be staying with you?"  
  
"The Academy can find place in the servant's quarters," Louise said. "Or you might bed down outside my room. With your bulk, you could be a draught excluder when winter comes."  
  
"I'll be with the maids." Agatha forced her hands to unclench and not wrap around an oh-so-vulnerable throat. "Am I dismissed?"  
  
"You were the second you came through the door, Heterodyne."  
  
Agatha marched out of the room with stiffened back. That had gone well. She had followed Krosp's instructions: ingratiate herself, don't lose her temper, and establish her place in the pecking order. Fine. Good. She could weather that _nasty little brat's insults. Oh, she'd deal with it. Then when she had enough money? Off to Germania. **Yes. If geology was similar to Europa, not too far from this region was the Saar and its iron deposits. Yesssss. All it would take is a few refractory crucibles to produce more steel than this world could imagine. She could build things. BIG things. Like--like a clank as big as Mr. Tock! Bigger. BIG ENOUGH TO HUNT DOWN A NASTY LITTLE PINK HAIRED BRAT AND DANGLE HER AS SHE SCREAMED WHILE IT OPENED UP ITS MAW TO SHOW THE FIRES RAGING IN ITS FIREBOX--**_  
  
Someone tugged her sleeve.  
  
_**"WHAT DO YOU WANT?"**_  
  
Agatha's head cleared when she heard a terrified squeak. In her rage, she had stormed out of the tower housing the students. A dark-haired girl with a starched white headpiece peered out from behind the cover of its doorway. Agatha blew out a breath not unlike a safety valve releasing steam built up in its boilers. Lovely. Let's just terrify innocent and helpful servants while the day was still young. The maid who had attended her this morning crept out of her hiding place. She curtsied with each step in a bobbing motion that made Agatha feel as if she were on a storm-tossed airship without her air legs. Cupped in her hands was--  
  
"Oh, you found it." Agatha took the round brass case from the maid's trembling hands.   
  
"Yes, miladay, sorry to interrupt you milady," the maid said in one breath, "please don't report me to the Headmaster, milady, I'm very sorry, milady--"  
  
"It wasn't you." Agatha looked upwards. "I was pre-occupied dealing with my Mistress' instructions."  
  
"I understand, milady." The maid curtsied again. "By your leave, I'll--"  
  
"Stop," Agatha said. "It's entirely my fault. My temper needed to ground itself, and you were unfortunate enough to be the tallest object around. Metaphorically, of course. What's your name?"  
  
"It's Siesta," the maid said. "It's entirely your privilege as a noble to discipline the staff. As we're told, we always need to be reminded of your place fault or no."  
  
"I'm not feeling very noble right now." Agatha smiled ruefully. "And you were kind finding my little clank."  
  
"I saw it in the grass behind the kitchen, near your airship's wreckage." Siesta cocked her head. "Clank?"  
  
"A mechanical automaton." Agatha wound the stem and pressed a button. "Watch this."  
  
In the middle of one side of the casing, shutters opened to reveal a single mechanical eye.  
  
*DING*  
  
"It's so cute!" Siesta clapped her hands in delight. "Like the alviss in the dining hall, though I've never seen those move."  
  
"So you do have clanks of a sort here," Agatha said. "Siesta, would you mind helping me a little more? I don't want to take too much of your time. I've been banished to the servant's quarters by 'Mistress'."  
  
"Of course, milady." Siesta gasped. "You as a noble would stay in commoner's quarters?"  
  
"I wouldn't stay up there," Agatha said, "if I were paid my weight in gears and springs."  
  
+++  
  
Louise sipped her wine.  
  
Perfect. The impudent cow had accepted her place.  
  
Even though for one second, she had loomed and her voice became deadly as a serpent like Eleonore's no mother's and Louise was standing so small before her mother the carpet stretching out in all directions and she was sorry for being a failure for being a zero for being--  
  
Oh. Her glass was empty.  
  
So was the bottle.  
  
She should order another.


	10. In Which Assistants Are Acquired

It was a monk's cell: a plain wooden bedframe with thin mattress and threadbare if clean linen, a table beneath a narrow window, a candle in a tin saucer for light. An ewer for water, a frayed towel, and a chamberpot were tucked away for certain needs. Standing in the doorway, Siesta wrung her apron nervously while Agatha Heterodyne examined the room accorded to a simple maid.  
  
"Well, it's a start," she said, nodding. "It will do."  
  
Siesta blew out a relieved breath that the expected tantrum hadn't come.  
  
"But you can do one other thing for me," Agatha continued. "Bring me to my airship's wreckage. Oh--and I'll need another set of clothing for this, and my boots--"  
  
++++  
  
Siesta had never met a noble quite like Lady Agatha.  
  
Like every smart commoner in Tristain, Siesta had learned the single important rule regarding nobles: never come to their attention. Keep your eyes down. Don't presume friendliness. If the worst came to worst, find the nearest water mage to deal with the consequences. Life as a servant at the Academy hadn't been as bad as she had thought. Something about the uniform granted the maids a certain invisibility; they were treated more as golems than anything else. Siesta had only endured the occasional punishment ordered by a petulant student, such as docked pay or a harangue from the head maid. Still, it rankled at times to deal with the spoiled scions of Tristain's elite.  
  
Lady Agatha was nothing like them. At first, Siesta had thought the rumours about her were simple fancies spread by gossiping schoolgirls. Surely this quiet woman about her age couldn't have had a torrid love affair with a baron's son and fought monsters with a sword forged out of lightning. She seemed so out of place. Then Siesta had heard That Voice. In the name of God and the Founder, it had been as if a square-class wind mage had unleashed a tempest upon her helpless form. Then--then, Lady Agatha had been so nice. Siesta had always been warned that that was when nobles were most dangerous. You thought they liked you, and then it all came down to who was below who in the end. Yet, it was too hard to take Lady Agatha's friendliness as anything but what it was.  
  
It was still a shock to see Lady Agatha dressed in worn breeches and man's shirt, feet shod in boots meant for a smith's forge, sifting among the strange airship's wreck without any concern for her appearance. Yes, there were stories she had been raised by commoner parents. That happened in all the romances Siesta had read. But in them, the common garb was tossed aside for the riches of the mage-born. Lady Agatha hummed an odd, catchy melody as she passed things to Siesta. Her hands were rough. It wasn't the coarseness of years of washing and labour, but it didn't have the softness of someone who had never picked up anything heavier than a wand. Most of what she took out were tools. Some Siesta recognized from those used back in Tarbes. Others? Like nothing she had ever seen.  
  
"Ha. A multiplex knife!" Lady Agatha unfolded what appeared to be a clasp knife. Ten different implements sprang out. "This should be useful."  
  
"I've never seen so much steel," Siesta said, wondering at how much of it was on display. "Your people must be very rich spare this much for a tool kit."  
  
"I'd have thought your earth mages," Lady Agatha said, "would be able to make as much as they need on the spot."  
  
"I'm not sure, milady," Siesta said. "I've seen the students summon bronze or even iron. No steel."  
  
"And you're not awash in gold." Lady Agatha bit her lip. "That suggests a lot about the limits of their magic."  
  
"I'm a commoner." Siesta kept most of the bitterness out of her tone. "It wouldn't be right for me to pry into noble matters."   
  
"You wouldn't have gotten far at TPU," Lady Agatha lifted up a massive wrench that could have taken off a cartwheel. "'Know enough to be afraid!' If you don't pry, you're no better than any other illiterate peasant."  
  
Siesta waited.   
  
"--you're from a peasant village, aren't you?"   
  
"Tarbes. It's very nice."  
  
"Sorry," Agatha said, "when I was younger we spent a lot of time moving from place to place. Peasants can be so insular, and it didn't help that any of the other children had no idea what I was talking about--"  
  
"It's alright." Siesta smiled. "You apologized. Most nobles never think of it. You didn't learn magic at this school?"  
  
"Transylvania Polygnostic, finest institute of SCIENCE! in Eastern Europa." Lady Agatha cleaned her glasses on a shirt cuff. "Doctor Beetle let me in when I was fifteen. I studied so hard, though I was um handicapped while I was there. Clanks, engineering, medicine--never let me take the exams when all those fools passed--galvanics--"  
  
"Galvanics?" Siesta asked, mainly to humour the lady. It was fun hearing her talk in spite of it being meaningless.  
  
"Electricity." Agatha frowned at Siesta's comprehension. "Ah, what lightning is made of?"  
  
"You can make lightning?" Siesta's eyes flew wide.   
  
"Sure." Agatha sighed longingly. "Gil had the cleverest lightning generator set up. If only the idiot hadn't--we could have spent some time properly weaponizing it--huh!"  
  
"Is milady alright?" Siesta's astonishment was turned to duty when Agatha jerked her left hand as if burned. "Did you hurt yourself? I'll run to the infirmary right away."  
  
"For a second I saw these runes--" Lady Agatha bent out of sight, rummaging in a compartment. "Well, well. Don't know how I know, but it looks as if I've found the weapons locker."  
  
That strange humming returned. The world around her receded as Siesta aided the noblewoman lay out the strangest things the maid had ever seen. Some were recognizable, like lengths of fine wire and a musket's stock. Others were very odd indeed: a glass globe full of a substance not liquid or air that glowed, a crank-driven device taken from what looked like a windmill, metal forms bent in ways that sent her vision all funny. It was alright, though. Lady Agatha wouldn't hurt her. Why, Lady Agatha seemed to be having fun! She was smiling! It was a scary sort of smiling--all her teeth showing--but that was alright. Because Siesta was being helpful and dutiful and the hum filled her entire world.  
  
The bell rang for twelve o'clock. Siesta shook her head. Oh, no! She should have been at the kitchens an hour ago to set the dining hall for lunch. She would be reported. Where had two hours gone? It was all so vague. All she remembered was Lady Agatha and the flash of tools and soft cackling. Hands stained with oil, Lady Agatha picked up the object in her arms. It was some sort of musket. It was more like a small cannon: brass and steel, with rings of glass and a larger globe on the end that shimmered with-- Siesta backed away. Lightning. Lady Agatha's people could call lightning. Brimir's Fury was the mark of a powerful wind mage. _Lady Agatha had caged the power of the storm._ Lady Agatha stroked it with the expression Siesta had only read about in the other romances she kept tucked away beneath her mattress.  
  
**"** _Beautiful,"_ Lady Agatha crooned. " _Is there a suitable isolated spot where we can test it?_ "  
  
Siesta had excellent survival instincts when it came to nobles.  
  
"Would milady," Siesta asked, voice quavering just a little, "wish a meal before target practice?"  
  
"Now that you mention it, I'm famished." Lady Agatha licked her lips. "Time does pass by when you're having fun. You really were a lot of help, Siesta."  
  
"I--I'm glad I was." Siesta curtsied. "I have to run, I have duties at the Alviss Dining Hall--"  
  
"Drat. If they ask, I dragooned you." Lady Agatha snapped her fingers. "Maybe being an overbearing noble has its advantages. I'll tell them as my dear mistress' lady-in-waiting, I drafted you for a few days to set me up."  
  
"A few days?"  
  
"Ach, it'll be fun." Lady Agatha smiled. "You don't have to use milady all the time. Call me Agatha.'  
  
"Yes, mil-- Agatha."  
  
"I could kill for a decent goulash," Agatha said, wrapping up her musket in a fragment of the airship's balloon. "Say, do you people happen to have any paprika on hand?"  
  
++++  
  
Deep within the wrecked engine's casing, it finished its task. It had been interrupted when She had started one of her Works. But now it could fulfill its standby programming. A tiny mechanical hand tightened one last screw. It wound a stem set into the lesser copy's back. Two eyes opened and looked into one.  
  
*BING?*  
  
*DING*


	11. In Which Lessons Are Learned

"Another sardine, Oh Great Krosp?" Katie asked.  
  
"Mrrrrrr." Nestling in her lap, Krosp's jaws opened wide to accept tribute. "Thanks, kid. You just got yourself promoted to handmaiden."  
  
"A handmaiden in the Emperor's Court?" Katie clapped her hands. "I am so-- Oh! Headmaster!"  
  
"Don't worry, little one," Old Osmond said. "I've come here to bask my old bones. It is nearly lunch. You should find a place in the Alviss Hall.  
  
"I'll see you next court," Katie said, waving goodbye.  
  
The white-bearded man puffed his pipe while the cat curled up in the sun on the marble bench beside him  
  
"Mmmm. Young Gramont appears very attentive of Madmoiselle Montmorency of late."  
  
"She asked me to check up on him." Krosp's tail twitched. "Accidents happen. I let him know my subjects will keep an eye on him in case he stumbles."  
  
"Very attentive." Osmond blew a smoke ring. "You've gathered quite a 'court' of the young girls of my school. So impressionable. One would think your people would be the ones attending upon you."  
  
"Cats are a race of kings and queens." Idly, Krosp flexed his claws. "Can't be bothering them all the time for trivial things. Besides, girls likes Katie need watching in case some smooth-talking jerk takes advantage of them."  
  
"I would have thought you would have been bored with their prattle," Osmond said.  
  
"Eh. Mostly gossip." A green eye opened slightly. "I hear Tristain's princess is being married off the the Germanians. Not a love match?"  
  
"Our flower, Henrietta." Osmond waggled a pinkie in one ear. "Uncertain times. The terrible civil war in Albion. Tristain needs its strength. At least we have such families as the Vallieres, whose estate guards Germania's border."  
  
The clock struck twelve.  
  
"Well, I must be going. Do give my regards to Lady Heterodyne. She's such a bright spark."  
  
"I'll pass it on."  
  
++++  
  
The Alviss Dining Hall of the Tristain Academy of Magic was the centerpiece of the school. Three long tables set with the finest of china and silverware hosted the entire student body thrice a day. Sumptuous dishes that would have been worthy of a formal university dinner at TPU were served with every meal. Everyone gathered for the daily rituals of eating, gossip, and backbiting.  
  
Agatha had taken one look at the hall, looked down at her work clothes, and decided to stay in the kitchen.  
  
Dipping in a spoon, Agatha tasted a sample from the goulash bubbling away on the stove. Siesta had provided her with a skirt and apron to cover her breeches lest Head Chef Marteau suffer a fit of apoplexy. The burly man in cook's whites and hat had raised both bushy eyebrows to his hairline at a noble woman in his kitchen. Given the attitudes of the nobles she had met, doubtless he had expected her to order him to whip up a personalized dish. His stony expression had softened when she had asked for a spare spot at the stove and access to his spice rack. The glass of wine and baguette that had appeared on a nearby table indicated a detente had been reached.  
  
Mmmm. A little more paprika, with some more simmering time. She added a dash more of the fiery spice. Sitting down, she sliced the baguette in half and buttered it. The crisp crust crunched between her teeth while she inspected the tools she had salvaged from the airship. They certainly weren't the quality and selection found at TPU or Castle Wulfenbach. They'd do for now until she had enough funds to purchase more. Although she doubted Tristain had left-handed lurning wrenches. Red fire, they wouldn't even be set in a civilized measurement system like metric. Setting down her bread, she polished and oiled the contents of her improvised toolkit. They were more precious than she had thought.  
  
A floorboard creaked behind her.  
  
"Siesta?" Agatha turned around.  
  
"Yes, mi--Agatha," Siesta said, hands behind her back.  
  
"Are you sneaking up behind me?" Agatha craned her head. "And why do you have a skillet hidden behind you?"  
  
"No reason!" A tiny drop of sweat dribbled down the maid's brow.  
  
"Is this about what I cobbled together?" Agatha nudged the object wrapped up in a tarpaulin, beneath the table.  
  
"No, Agatha." Siesta retreated until her back was to the wall.  
  
"Siesta," Agatha said, "I'm completely calm. I'm not angry. I assure you, if I do decide to go on a violent rampage, I'll target only the nobles."  
  
"Oh." Siesta wiped her forehead, setting the cast-iron pan aside. "I was worried, mistress."  
  
"Every woman needs an arsenal of her own," Agatha said, sipping her wine. "My homeland didn't have people who could summon fire with their mind. Well, aside from the pyrokinetics experiments I read about from Darmstaadt. But there were enough monsters and golems around to make life interesting."  
  
"Do the lands of the west have orcs?" Siesta asked. "They're terrible creatures--pig-beasts that walk like men.'  
  
"Try man-high mantis-wasp hybrids." Agatha grimaced. "And the spiders. Don't ask me about the spiders."  
  
"So you really did defeat monsters with a sword of lightning!"  
  
"That's an exaggeration." She needed to set the brakes on Krosp's storytelling lest she become the Storm Queen. "I improvised shock-swords out of fencing foils, some electric cable, and a power source."  
  
"I don't understand any of that," Siesta said.  
  
"You can learn," Agatha replied. "The principles are simple: electricity follows the line of least resistance. Certain metals are conductors that let it flow easily through them. Other substances insulate, the opposite. The shock-swords used a circuit of metal that flowed into the wasps when the tip touched them."  
  
"And you had an--" Siesta concentrated. "Is that like when I pick up a hot tray with a towel? Because the cloth in-sew-lates my hand from the heat?"  
  
"Precisely!" Agatha raised a glass. "Congratulations! You've just worked out the mechanism of heat conduction by analogy. There's much more to the theories, of course."  
  
"I--I know something only nobles should know." Siesta blinked. "Thank you, Miss Agatha! Oh, thank you!"  
  
Agatha was nearly knocked off her chair by the maid's exuberant hug. They certainly raised peasant girls strong in Tristain. Siesta practically danced out the door with a tray of pastries for the dessert course. How amazing it must be for a--not, not ignorant, merely unlearned--young woman to have that flash of understanding. Ach, it must be in its own small way the delight of finding out that she had finally made a device that worked. Siesta had been helpful enough while Agatha had built her personal insurance-policy. She had caught on quickly enough to learn which tools to hand over when given an explanation the types. She also had the sense of self-preservation which allowed minions to survive close contact with a working Spark.  
  
I can teach her.  
  
Agatha's eyes widened.  
  
She could teach everyone. Agatha had snuck into TPU classes when she was only a little girl. The professors had always chased her out, of course. But she had learned how to quickly memorize the contents of lectures and the formulae scribbled on blackboards. Doctor Beetle had justified her admittance too TPU at fifteen because learned the coursework taught to second-year students. The same rule had applied to whenever she visited the factories and smelting plants of Beetleburg with Adam. There was always a bored old hand around who would chat with the curious girl.  
  
All those facts, locked away in her brain.  
  
_They have bronze and coal and iron. They can produce clockwork. I've seen some students and teachers with oversized watches. Do they have flintlocks yet? I should ask. **What can I do? A great clank such as Mr. Tock or the Baron's war-clanks would take ages to build. They don't have the precision lathes and machinery. Then again, Van Rijn created the Muses for Andronicus Valois with facilities only slightly more advanced than the technology here. And he did not have earth mages about how can shape soil into golems with a single incantation. Yeeeeesssss. With a few advances in metallurgy, I can do things.**_  
  
++++  
  
Marteau cocked an ear at the humming coming from the strange noblewoman in the corner.  
  
Unconsciously, his foot tapped in time with the complex tune.  
  
++++  
  
Louise blearily lifted her head off the table.  
  
Two empty bottles. Mother would be ashamed of her.  
  
She had failed the rule of steel, letting that st-st-stupid familiar scare her.  
  
Louise clutched her temples.  
  
Ow.  
  
So soon? Her head hurt.  
  
Stop that humming stop that humming stop IT STOP IT--


	12. In Which Matters of Scientific Importance Are Discussed

"You can't show these to anyone," Krosp said in Magyar, rifling through her sketches.  
  
"But the potential benefits!" Agatha protested. "The Corbetites have been trying to recreate and extend the Storm King's railway network for two centuries. Without the hazards of the Wastelands to deal with--"  
  
"Sparks. Always thinking the invention solves everything." Krosp raised his eyes to a heaven where Bast reigned wisely. "The Corbetites have their own militant order and small army of railway deacons to deal with the Wastelands. What blocks them are the politics, even with the Baron helping them."  
  
"I don't want to talk about him," Agatha said, gritting her teeth.  
  
"You don't have to like him to learn from him," Krosp shot back. "Take this railway network. Even if you get royal backing right away, there'll be nobles and merchants who will want your head for threatening the trade routes they control. Not to mention the peasants who'll be thrown off the lands the tracks go through."  
  
"I didn't think of that." Agatha winced. "You're right. I should stick to the meek servant. Van Rijn did well enough as Andronics Valois' Chief Thinkomancer, after all."  
  
"That won't last long." Krosp sniffed the remains of the goulash, turning up his nose at its spiciness. "You're a Heterodyne, kid. Your family never played the game. They kicked over the table, set fire to the board, turned everyone into chess pieces, then played hand-grenade croquet. Remember that Bludtharst is in your family tree."  
  
"Ah, I try not to think about the Old Heterodynes," Agatha said. "I also promised Siesta I wouldn't go on a rampage yet. Well, against the entire population--"  
  
"It'll be tough, but we'll establish a power base." Krosp's tail lashed. "Unfortunately, I got a chat from the Headmaster. He's onto us."  
  
"That isn't good," Agatha said, after listening to his recount of their chat. "We need to talk to Professor Colbert about these runes. Unless I talked in my sleep again, the only evidence of what I am would be in the verdammt symbol."  
  
"Give me a minute, I'll track him down."  
  
Krosp and Agatha jumped up as a huge explosion came from outside.  
  
"Krosp? That may be simpler than you think."  
  
++++  
  
Finding Jean Colbert's whereabouts was quite simple. All one needed to do was spot the mushroom cloud. A certain nostalgia swept through her as she headed for the tell-tale signs of intensive scientific investigation. Set up against the curtain wall by the Tower of Fire was a long, low wooden shed in a somewhat disassembled condition. The roof had been blown off and back against the curtain wall that formed its rear side; hinges on that side of the shed's frame had directed its movements to stop it from being clean off. Similar arrangements had saved the windows, whose glass was oddly intact. Recognizable to an eye used to lab accidents was the tell-tale debris field of a destroyed lab.  
  
Professor Colbert lay several meters outside the front door with the puzzled demeanor of a man who has found the ultimate secrets of the universe through ballistic reconnaissance. He was a man of smoldering looks. Agatha dumped the bucket of water she had drawn from the kitchen sink to put out the tiny flames on his robes and surviving fringe of hair. Beneath the soot, he had the appearance of a man who likely looked in his forties by age sixteen. Burn marks on the back of his neck attested to a long career in experimental pursuits. He adjusted a set of twisted spectacles, whose lenses had somehow survived the blast. Shaking his head, he plucked a pair of wax plugs out of his ears.  
  
"Fascinating substance," he said, tapping his lips with a wand. "It appears like a refined version of the oil one can produce with the alchemy spell. Much lower ignition point, mind you."  
  
"Herr Professor," Agatha said, "you have a small snake puppet draped over your right ear."  
  
"Don't worry, it can easily be rebuilt,' Colbert said, shakily getting to his feet. "A minor set-back, akin to my earlier attempts with pellets of gunpowder as the fuel source."  
  
"You're working on internal combustion engines?" Agatha asked. "That's dangerously ambitious for the metallurgy you have. Good for you!"  
  
"Internal combustion! How simple and concise." Colbert brightened. "What a logical name for the process. I was going call it the Reciprocating Motivator Driven By Rapid Gaseous Expansion Via Controlled Ignition. Although, er, control of the ignition is proving a bit tricky. I'm working on a pattern based on pulse rate--"  
  
"Excuse me for interrupting, but your lab is still on fire."  
  
"Oh, yes. We should take care of that."  
  
Professor Colbert chanted a brief incantation and waved his wand. Agatha's ears popped as the pressure suddenly dropped around them. Mein Gott, she thought in wonder, did he conjure a vacuum to deprive the fire of oxygen with only that? Hmmm. There definitely appears to be a vocal component to this "magic", along with gestures. Is the wand a conduit or merely a piece of theater? Were the words akin to the concept of Logos in Christian theology, with a platonic Word manifesting itself in physical reality via the exercise of magic? What was magic's source? It could be from the aether. Or it could be from some sort of standing magical field akin to the magnetic lines of force that existed on her world. Interesting. If the analogy proved true, then their compasses might orient themselves via the thaumaturgic field.  
  
Agatha considered all this while helping Colbert put his laboratory back into order. She had become better at multi-tasking since the locket's shackles had been removed from her mind. As progress was made in the chaos, she categorized Colbert as of the Family Intelligentsia, Genus Scientist, Species Absent-Minded. The lab was scarcely less-muddled than when they had started. Scorched papers were stacked on every clear space. Colbert's filing system was akin to geological stratification, not helped by his tendency to read them while shuffling into what he called order. Surprisingly intact glassware and sundry equipment were arranged every which way. Hmmm. Did they have spells for hardening inorganic materials? How useful. Years of toil as Doctor Beetle's lab assistant helped her work around Colbert's natural tendency towards entropy.  
  
Summoned gusts of wind slammed the windows and roof back into position. Aside from a faint scent of fuel oil, most of the evidence of the recent enquiry into the realms of chemistry and physics had been cleaned away. Agatha noted that the second of the engines from the escape blimp had been meticulously laid out on a table. Unlike everything else, it had not been disturbed by the explosion. A heavy brass and glass cover had shielded it from the blast. Professor Colbert was setting the wreckage of a mechanism on a neighboring work table. Leather bellows, iron cylinder and a crude piston head, gears-- She mentally assembled the pieces into what it had looked like whole. She was most impressed--despite poor materials, Colbert had developed an internal combustion engine at an age when only Sparks had devised the first crude prototypes in the early 17th Century.  
  
"Marvelous!" he cried out, gesturing at the airship's dissected engine. "The tolerances and materials are far beyond anything I have ever seen. They say the elves and the people who live in Rub' Al Khali have superior machines, but to see such workmanship in person is a privilege."  
  
"And your magic is wondrous to me," Agatha replied. "It certainly makes the inevitable lab accidents less expensive."  
  
"Earth magic hardening and permanency spells," Colbert replied abstractedly. "Nothing impressive compared to this machine-- Ah! My apologies. I couldn't resist--"  
  
"Right of salvage, Herr Colbert," Agatha said. "My people use advanced alloys and machining tools with precise tolerances."  
  
"It looks as if you could exchange the parts of one cylinder," Colbert said, "with another without any modification. Imagine the possibilities! Mass production! No need for masters and journeymen to assemble a device from start to finish!"  
  
"On something as simple as this," Agatha said, "sure, but you'd be in trouble if you tried that with something crafted by a Spark--"  
  
Verdammt. Well, it wasn't as if they didn't know something.  
  
"A Spark." Colbert's distracted demeanor suddenly shifted to a disturbing level of focus.  
  
"Yes." Agatha crossed her arms across her chest. "You found something in the runes, didn't you?'  
  
"Nothing conclusive, and you shouldn't worry--" Colbert replied.  
  
"Don't patronize me," Agatha snapped. "I spent my life being lied to for my supposed 'own good' by those I loved. My mind was restrained badly enough to turn me into a clumsy failure. I won't accept it from an acquaintance."  
  
"Old Osmond," Colbert groaned. "That reprobate. Has he bothered you?"  
  
"He isn't lying in the kitchen with a wrench laid upside his head," Agatha replied. "You found out about the word 'Spark'. Tell me what context, and I'll tell you what I can."  
  
"The runes on your hand denote a special class of familiar," Colbert said. "There are tiny pentagrams that make up the trilobite symbol on your left hand. At the lower four corners are the runes for each of existing types; the top of the star has runes which translate as 'light' or 'spark'."  
  
"Special." Agatha pinched the bridge of her nose. "How special?"  
  
"Ah--the familiars were associated with Brimir, the revered founder of the Faith and the man who created our magical system as a gift from Almighty God."  
  
"No pressure at all then." She tipped her head back, staring at the ceiling. "This is such a--ho!--familiar feeling. Are the gates of hell, perchance, predicted to open at midnight in a week?"  
  
"Not that I know of," Colbert said. "You have some experience with great destinies thrust upon you?"  
  
"And how." Agatha sighed. "Krosp will kill me. But--fine. Sparks such as myself have a gift for technology. We can--it is hard to explain. We can tinker with our inventions in ways that some have said skirt the usual boundaries of reality."  
  
"By the Founder, you must be able to create wonders indeed!" Colbert said. "Do you expend willpower, like we mages do?"  
  
"Willpower?" Agatha asked.  
  
"A mage's will defines how powerful," Colbert explained, "and, based on their rank, how many spells they can cast without exhaustion. Too much magic expended by even a square class can render them too exhausted to cast anything without rest."  
  
"Willpower isn't an issue for Sparks." What had Othar said? Sparks as mad dogs tearing apart Europa? "Colbert, there are issues with Sparks. You have a right to know, as a ward of the young people here."  
  
"Milady, if you would," Colbert said, taking her hands in his, "call me Jean. I swear before Founder and God that I will not divulge your secrets even to Osmond--even to the Royal Family--unless you are a danger. And I cannot begin to fathom how you could be a threat."  
  
Bright, intelligent, kind eyes gazed at her.  
  
Her stomach did a tiny flip.  
  
"There is another name for my kind," Agatha continued, breathing deeply. "We're also known as 'madboys'--in my case, 'madgirl'--because we don't only craft wonders.  
  
"We can craft nightmares...."


	13. In Which Tours Are Conducted

Wouldn't stop.  
  
Louise clutched her temples.  
  
Wouldn't stop wouldn't stop head screaming wouldn't stop.  
  
A droplet of blood fell from one nostril.  
  
A shaking hand reached for a wand.  
  
Had to stop it.  
  
S-s-s-tupid cat.  
  
++++  
  
It was both the best and second-most terrible day of Jean Colbert's life. Such wonders had been revealed to him these past few hours. They made the wondrous engine of controlled combustion a mere child's toy in comparison. Exchanging minds! Legendary alviss with intelligences the equal of those created by God! Natural philosophies equaled or surpassed the greatest feats of Brimiric magic! Madmoiselle Heterodyne's Europa was actually Halkeginia in an entirely separate reality, ruled by an aristocracy of enlightened men unafraid of orthodoxy. Would it not be a paradise?  
  
As always, his dreams were ruined by people being people.  
  
Madmoiselle Heterodyne bustled around his laboratory putting his notes into some semblance of order. Colbert had been banned from helping after the sixth time he had stopped to read. Apparently it was a habit she was used to dealing with among the minor Sparks among the faculty of Transylvania Polygnostic. She hummed that atonal-yet-fascinating tune under her breath as his life's work--pitiful though it was in comparison--was placed onto bookshelves categorized by date and subject. Oh, how interesting. He had bookshelves. It was impossible that such a bright, industrious woman be anything like the terrible "madboys" who had terrorized her homeland.  
  
The lightning-musket resting upon a workbench now clear of detritus belied that image. One didn't even need to cast a spell to sense the latent power of a caged storm within the device. They had tested it against a levitated block of steel further isolated by a bubble-shield spell to catch the shrapnel. A precaution he should have taken when testing the engine fuel, come to think of it. The bright-blue beam from the "galvanic cannon" was far more collimated than any wind mage's lightning bolt. The effect was at least square-class in nature. The two of them had had to duck molten droplets of steel that had punched through the shield. Madmoiselle Heterodyne had done a most stimulating triumphant dance.  
  
The feral smile on her features had sent a shiver down his spine.  
  
"That should do it," Agatha said. "At least this time it shouldn't cause an avalanche."  
  
"So this is why they say ever man should wed," Colbert said. "A woman's touch does bring order, doesn't it? Ahahahha! Ha."  
  
"What is it about me and marriage proposals?" Agatha said, one brow raised. "Although of the sample size of two I've received so far, yours is the better one."  
  
"Merely a jest," Colbert reassured her. "Of course it was! How could I reduce a brilliant colleague to a life of darning my socks and cleaning up my notes? It would be a waste of your intellect."  
  
"Jean, I'm only a student," Agatha replied.  
  
"Compared to you, I am a mere babe playing with blocks," Colbert said. "You understand what I am trying to do in my own pitiful way. It's a relief to finally meet a mind in accord with mine."  
  
"And what about what I'm capable of?" Agatha asked, turning aside. "Now that I have some perspective, I see why the Baron feared me running loose around Europa. My ancestors before my father and uncle were not nice people even by the standards of Spark society."  
  
"There have been nobles in our history who have been as bad." Colbert crossed his fingers behind his back. Some of the tales she had told of Bludtharst Heterodyne made her forebear as terrifying as an elf! "Even I have performed deeds that shame me. It is the reason I swore never to raise my wand in the cause of destruction."  
  
"I don't want to either. Unless someone really deserves it." Agatha stroked her weapon possessively. "Like orcs. Terrible creatures. _Perhaps an outing to combine pest control and the effect of this on living tissue--_ "  
  
"We should secure this in the treasury," Colbert said quickly.  
  
"Do we have to?" Madmoiselle Heterodyne pouted. "I guess you're right. This isn't what one carries about for social purposes, is it? I wouldn't want to be accused of gaucherie."  
  
Agatha smiled winningly.  
  
"But perhaps you could escort me to the nearest orc infestation? I'd love a tour outside the walls!"  
  
It was only polite to offer his arm to Madmoiselle Heterodyne. Galvanic cannon slung over her shoulder, she chattered lightly about designing a more discreet copy of the weapon to use in polite society. Colbert silently considered that society would reach new heights of etiquette once word spread about her attitude towards sidearms. Hmmm. What would be the effects of her lightning-generator upon a sample of windstone? My, what a thought. One might adapt the galvanic theories of Europan SCIENCE! to extract lighting from the exotic mineral. A glorious possibility, where cities could be lit by extraction-engines that used windstone as a forge consumed coal. He tightened his grip about her arm intertwined with his.  
  
Absently, he noted Madame Longueville in the hallway outside the treasury within the academy's central tower. On an errand for the Headmaster, no doubt. Osmond's lair was one floor above. There was no need to nip up to the old man's office for the keys. Colbert was Keeper of the Keys for the day. Unlocking the stout doors, he bustled past the magical treasures accumulated over the centuries of the Academy's existence. He set the galvanic cannon on an empty shelf next to the Staff of Destruction's case.  
  
"Red fire!" Agatha exclaimed. She peered through the entrance, without crossing the threshold. "Wherever did you find a rocket projector?"  
  
"A what?" Colbert asked.  
  
"Over there." She pointed at the Staff. "I saw examples of them in Doctor Beetle's lab armory, though they're clumsy compared to a decent death ray."  
  
"Is this an example of your homeland's technology?"  
  
"No, the construction doesn't match Europan techniques." Agatha frowned. "Rather utilitarian, if you ask me. No sense of style. It must be from that Rub al'Khali I've heard about."  
  
"And here Osmond said it was a powerful magical artifact that could destroy an adult dragon," Colbert said, locking the doors.  
  
"I wouldn't be surprised if it did," Agatha said. "It looks big enough to pack a decent explosive charge. You'd likely only have one shot before you'd have to reload it."  
  
"Well, even so, it's quite dangerous." Colbert tapped the walls around the doors with his wand. "No fear, my lady Heterodyne. The treasury is protected by earth-magic spells which harden it beyond what you see in my laboratory. Why, you would have to apply a massive amount of physical force break through."  
  
"Like a twenty-meter high battle clank? Or could one create a golem that size?"  
  
"I suppose one could," Colbert mused.  
  
"Well, if I was a thief, I wouldn't bother." Agatha shook her head. "Brute force has its place. But I'd use resonance. Every material has its own resonant frequency. You can use that against even steel."  
  
In retrospect, Colbert should have noticed how intently Madame Longueville was listening.  
  
++++  
  
Montmorency hid an amused titter behind one hand as Lady Heterodyne and Professor Colbert passed by. Oh, how delicious! The sensation of the year and the most eccentric teacher of the Academy faculty were walking out as if courting. What a funny romance that would be. Although neither seemed to notice there was anything suggestive in their behavior. Tch. The Lady Heterodyne was so unworldly in spite of being the object of pursuit by the lecherous son of Baron Wulfenbach. It came from being raised by commoners. No sense of sophistication. Why, look at the slops she was wearing in full view of everyone!  
  
Clearly, the Lady Heterodyne needed her guidance. Erg, she might actually fall into that Germanian harlot's orbit. No, it was Montmorency's duty to tutor the older girl in the sophisticated ways of nobility. A dash of Gallian style would do wonders. She was ever so indebted to the Lady and Krosp. Montmorency shifted her attention to her beloved Guiche. He stayed so close to her without a hint of straying. Poor lad. He had woken up in his own bed surrounded by Krosp's subjects, silently starting at him. His nerves had need of her constant, calming presence. Or else dire things might happen to him.  
  
"C-c-at."  
  
"Oh, you, Zero." Montmorency rolled her eyes. "Why don't you-a--aaa-aaaaaaaahhhh--"  
  
Louise Valliere's haggard face loomed before hers. Red tears dripped from her eyes.  
  
"Cat. Cursed. Have to stop it. Stop it in my head."  
  
BOOOOOOM!  
  
Guiche flew across the ward to land in a twitching, singed heap in a bed of rosebushes.  
  
Montmorency looked down the shaft of the Zero's wand as blood leaked from the girl's ears.  
  
"Where. Is. It?"


	14. In Which Tempers Flare

Agatha wondered if the runes were affecting her more expected. She had been light-headed the past few hours. Her arm shifted to press closer to Jean's. No, that was so very informal. He was Herr Colbert. He was a full professor of two decade's service on the faculty of this Academy. She hadn't even been close to graduating before Merlot had kicked her out of TPU. Although he was perceptive and enthusiastic and _listened to her as an equal_. He didn't shove her around as if she was a pawn in someone's game. Even Jean-- _Herr Colbert's_ not-at-all-a-marriage proposal had been respectful of her intellect and skills. Oh, my. She had found a colleague! Why, with his help they could revolutionize this entire continent. _They could explore the fusion of magic and technology. **What vistas of eldritch knowledge could they not conquer together?**_  
  
Seven years of life in Beetleburg made the loud explosion from below a minor abstraction from her fugue. Montmorency's faint, terrified screaming had her at a window in an instant. Jean matched her stride for stride. Agatha launched herself out the window with clutching Jean by the hand; as gravity took hold, Jean flung the keys back into the tower along with an order. A curt incantation and a wand-flick cast what had to be a variant of the levitation spell she had seen the other teachers use the day of her summoning. She kicked away from Jean--good, the spell encompassed them both without need for contact--as he created a whirling serpent-flame between the two girls.  
  
Screaming with rage, Louise jabbed her own wand at Jean. A beam of _something_ of a colour that hurt the eyes to look at missed Jean by half a meter. It didn't miss the top of the Academy's central tower, where a hole five meters wide suddenly appeared. Agatha's mind did several rapid calculations about effect and beam collimation right before she landed in a tumble on the grass. Ow! Agatha leaped forward and clutched the ground when another of Louise's beams rippled through the air. A perfectly circular gap big enough for Mister Tock to stick its head through appeared in the curtain wall. Hmmm. Interesting! A disintegration spell that had no secondary heating effect on the matter left behind!  
  
Air focused into a spear slammed into the pink-haired lunatic. Jean executed a skilled duck and roll that evaded another of the disintegration beams that clipped another of the Academy's towers. Agatha had already flung the wrench plucked from her improvised toolbelt at her so-called Master. The girl screamed when it smacked into her wrist. Her wand went flying into the grass. She scrabbled for it ranting about reducing Germania into a smoking ruin right up until a bronze valkyrie tackled her. Half the faculty converged on Louise Valliere.  
  
"STOP IT!" Louise screamed "STOP THE MUSIC, STOP THE MUSIC--"  
  
Oh, no.  
  
Oh, this was terrible!  
  
Then the bell rang.  
  
++++  
  
So, the Academy did have dungeons.  
  
Louise huddled in the corner of the cell. Her head ached from the first--and by the Founder, she vowed, the last--hangover of her life. Not that the elves screaming in her brain were what she was worried about. No, when the thick stone covering the only exit was removed, it would be far worse than every physical discomfort she could imagine. She had attacked a fellow student. She had cast a spell at Professor Colbert with lethal intent. Founder, she had been so angry! Nothing had mattered save venting her rage. It had been as if all the vitriol stored within her after a lifetime of humiliation had boiled into an unstoppable storm. She had broken.  
  
Mother would never forgive her.  
  
How fortunate that Germania wasn't a smoking ruin as promised, since that would be the only place that Louise deserved to go.  
  
Stone grated aside. Louise brushed herself off. Self-pity would not get her anywhere. She might as well face her fate with the dignity of the nobility she did not truly deserve. Her familiar stepped through carrying a black bag. The stone prison door sealed up behind the Germanian girl. Louise suffered the indignity of the older woman's poking and prodding. Of course they wouldn't send a qualified water mage to examine her this time. No doubt Father had already decreed a statement of disownment. At least she wouldn't have far to fall once she became a dispossessed noble.  
  
"Nice ranting there," Agatha said. "I give it a nine of ten. It's thesis-worthy."  
  
"Is Professor Colbert alright?" Louise mumbled around the thermometer in her mouth.  
  
"He's fine," Agatha replied. "You're lucky you have terrible aim. Those spells of yours only caused property damage."  
  
S-s-tupid familiar. She had to point out Louise couldn't even aim properly--  
  
Wait.  
  
Spells?  
  
"I'm sure they can fix it up." Agatha grimaced. "Although they'll need a big picture to hang over those holes."  
  
"I cast a spell?" Louise said.  
  
"Impressive ones," Agatha said. "You might almost be said to have made a breakthrough. When did you hear the humming, Louise? When you got drunk on the two bottles we found in your room? That must have been what lowered the barriers between your mind and mine."  
  
Very strong fingers clutched her chin.  
  
Louise quailed when green eyes almost--no, a little more scary and stern than mother's glared as if into her very soul.  
  
"Let me tell you something about the person you crafted a mental link with...."  
  
+++  
  
"The Zero did that?" Kirche said, staring at the massive hole in the wall.  
  
"Yes," Tabitha said, paging through a book.  
  
"Through six feet of stone hardened by centuries of triangle and square earth magic?"  
  
"Yes." Flick. "Going to leave her alone?"  
  
"Why of course not!" Kirche replied. "Without my prodding, the little engine of destruction could never have done this."  
  
Tabitha sighed.  
  
Doomed.


End file.
